< Primadonna

His palm over laps mine, nimble digits intertwining with my slim fingers. His rough thumb grazes the soft skin just above my knee. Leaving a trail of fire that devours and sets my body ablaze. He is muscle and skin elegantly stretched over a frail skeleton. Pulling me close, inhaling every inch of my freckled skin. Tilting my chin, and tasting the crook of my neck. Lips pressed roughly into mine, thoughts haze and hearts rush. His wicked touch blooms flowers made of wretched desire. In the darkness his searching hands ignite flutters in my stomach.